Not A Damsel
by quoth-the-pigeon
Summary: Alfred gets kidnapped in a awfully cheesy 1950's manner. It's up to Arthur to save him! USUK  de-anon from the kinkmeme
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! Ah readers, I am sure there are a few of you who will be going, 'Oi! WTF! Get back to all the other stories you're procrastinating on!' To which I say...*sob* so much to write *sob* But... well, this is one of my storyies at the Livejournal kinkmeme and I was kind of happy with this :) So, without further ado, here is the story!

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Not A Damsel**

_Chapter One_

Sunlight streamed into the small apartment. The golden morning light illuminated dust motes sailing through the air, stirred by the movement of sheets on the bed. It smelled like coffee, aged paper and cigarettes— and, Alfred noted to himself as he turned under the sheets, it was cold. He blinked, sky blue eyes blearily surveying the room. Everything was a blurred mess without his glasses. As Alfred wormed his way deeper into the heart of the bed where the heat had yet to be leached, he curled his hands over the second person lying in bed. Alfred gave a sleepy smile and tucked his cold toes into the crook of the other's knees.

There was a muffled yelp and Alfred gave a small sleepy chuckle, lazily smiling as his lover turned his face out of a pillow to glare.

"That was completely unnecessary" Arthur muttered, meeting Alfred's gaze with a frown.

The blue-eyed man continued to smile and yawned slowly, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow. "You gotta get up. Sun's been up for a while now." Alfred placed a large calloused palm over the other's bare waist. "Can't be late to work."

Arthur groaned, shutting his spring green eyes and twisting further under the covers of the bed. "I don't care," he muttered, but his face was pressed into the pillow and so all Alfred could hear was a string of muted sounds.

Alfred frowned, and trailed his still cold toes down the other man's calves, watching the smaller man shiver but cocoon deeper into the white sheets. Rolling over and tugging the sheets with him, Alfred groped for his glasses on the nightstand. Once in hand, he slipped them onto his face and sat up, snorting quietly at the pile of white sheets and the tuft of sandy hair that announced the presence of his partner. "Hey old man." Alfred sang lowly, stretching out the kinks from the muscles. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, watching as Arthur simply grunted and curled up tighter in the sheets. Alfred rolled his eyes, finally awake and pushed Arthur's warm body with his foot again. "Wake up."

When Arthur didn't even attempt at a response, the young American man snaked his hand under the still warm bedding and leaned forward, hooking his fingers onto the elastic band of Arthur's boxer shorts and pulled back, letting go with a loud snap.

Arthur bolted up, rolling away and nearly fell off the bed. He glared, hair tufted up in awkward angles. "You git!" Arthur snapped, growling as he sat up and kicked Alfred's foot away from under the sheets.

The younger man shrugged. "I mean it, Arthur. Time to get up." He rolled away the sheets, padding over to the coat hanger on the door, pulling a mouse grey robe onto his body. "Besides, it's gonna be a beautiful sunny day!"

"It's always sunny in bloody California." Arthur mumbled, furrowing his fingers through his hair. He glanced up, rolling his shoulder and looking at his legs. "How can you be so damn cheerful this early in the morning?"

Alfred smiled, quickly combing his hair and then began to furrow through the drawers for clothes. "I dunno." He flashed a smile to his lover. "Shouldn't you be the one up anyway? Isn't England ahead on the time zone?"

Arthur raised a prominent eyebrow, as he glanced at the young American. "I've been living here for six years. I would think that I've acclimatized by now."

"Oh, so it's just because you're old." Alfred had to duck as a pillow was quickly sent careening towards his head.

"Belt up." Arthur finally got out of the bed, stretching lightly before glancing back down at his legs again. He sent a pointed look towards Alfred, who was searching for a tie in the small closet by the bed. "Eager last night, were we?"

Alfred looked up, a blue tie in hand as he gazed blankly at the question. "Huh?"

"You bruised my hip last night," Arthur said. He walked over to the dresser to search for a shirt.

"Huh?" Alfred repeated, dropping the assortment of clothes onto the bed and came over to the smaller sandy haired man. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

brArthur shrugged, but smiled as two arms snaked their way around his waist, feeling hot breath puff against his collarbone. Alfred dipped his head and kissed Arthur's neck and nuzzled his nose into the short sandy hair. "Sorry," he offered.

"You are forgiven." Arthur hummed and turned his head, giving a peck before returning to searching for a shirt to wear for the day. "Now go get dressed."

"Sure thing." Alfred pulled away, and left the room after grabbing his clothes. For some reason, the American always felt more comfortable dressing in the living/dining area of the apartment they shared. As soon as he was dressed, he tossed the robe onto the small couch by the window, turning his attention to making breakfast for the two of them.

By the time Arthur came out, dressed in everything but his suit jacket and fedora, Alfred had fried two eggs, a few slices of bacon and poured out both the milk and the orange juice. Arthur was still tying his tie as he looked up at Alfred, who had a red apron to protect both his shirt and slacks.

"What's on your plate today?" Arthur asked, glancing down at the headlines of that morning's paper.

Alfred came around, sliding an egg and bacon onto the plate in front of Arthur. He then slid what was left in the pan onto his own plate, and placed the pan back onto the oven top, grabbing his coffee and sitting down across the Briton. "Nothing really," Alfred said, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm going to propose another set design for that new Disney movie, but I think the studio will want to walk about the western."

Arthur glanced up, hearing the kettle whistle and then got up to make his own cup of tea. "I thought you were working on that Indian thing."

Reaching back to untie his apron, Alfred quirked his brow. "Babe, that is a western." He winked and leaned forward. "You sure you're a reporter? You always seem behind on this kind of stuff."

Arthur scoffed, bringing his steeping tea back the table with him. "What a western consists of has no use to writing or covering the crime beat." Arthur bit into a cut up piece of his egg and reached for the pepper.

Alfred chuckled and then poured more salt onto his food. "Yeah, well you never know. Maybe it'll be important one day! Maybe you'll have a burglar who reenacts old movies! Then what?" When Arthur snorted, he pointed his fork at him. "Anyway, how's that story going?"

"Dreadful. It's amazing how so many people's mouths clam up at the sign of green or bodily harm." The sandy haired man stabbed at his eggs forcefully. "you would think it was a murder rather than oddities missing."

"Well yeah. People tend to do that, Artie."

"It certainly doesn't help me. And don't call me that."

Alfred smiled and then stood up, draining his coffee as he did so. "Well, I gotta scram or I'll be late. And you don't want to piss off Disney." He reached for his grey suit jacket, and bent lower to kiss Arthur on the cheek. "No getting shot, stabbed, maimed, poisoned, punched, strangled or hit by cars. Okay?"

"You make it sound like being a reporter is a death trap." Arthur folded up the paper and placed it on his lap.

Alfred winked, and dashed to get his hat hanging up on the rack. He turned and raised a hand to his partner. "See you later tonight."

"Be back for dinner," Arthur called, and watched the bubbly man hightail it out of the apartment. He glanced back down at the paper. He frowned, reading the headline again and walked over to the phone. A massive amount of chemicals missing was never a good sign. Dialing the rotary phone, sitting against the couch arm, Arthur crossed his legs and waited for the other line to pick up. He glanced about the room, tracing the patches of peeling wallpaper and stacks of yellowing newspapers. In the corner was Alfred's drawing board, next to a wastebasket full of crumpled ideas that Arthur thought were brilliant, but to Alfred they were just not good _enough_. The click of the line being picked up made Arthur snap back to attention and he focused on the accented words.

"_Allo_?"

"Bonnefoy? It's Kirkland."

"Ah, my faithful and irritable antagonist. Who can I thank for having such a pleasant man call me?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, glancing down at his watch to make sure he would not be late getting to the office. "You read the paper yet? Page six?"

There was a hesitation and Arthur could hear the distinct sound of the Frenchman exhaling what could only be a cloud of cigarette smoke. "_Oui_," came the answer finally.

"Then what do you think?"

"I think Fernandez's right. There's something odd about this crime wave." Francis cleared his throat. "Though_ The Sun_ is notorious for being a little embellished, _non_? Really, 'Hundreds of pounds of chemicals vanish into thin air'? Rubbish. Chemicals do not disappear into thin air. Someone takes it."

Arthur hummed and then furrowed his brows together as he thought a little more. "I'll see you in the office, frog." And he hung up before he could hear any more of the Frenchman's voice.

Arthur hopped off the couch arm, double checked to make sure the stove was not on and grabbed his hat and suit jacket, walking out the door wondering just what was going on in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Alright! Here's chapter two, and I hope you all like it. I really had a lot of fun writing this on Kinkmeme, but I'll have to finish my other one there before I take anymore prompts. :)

_Chris

*Edit* I am such an idiot...putting the second chapter of a story here instead. *hits head against wall* Well...THIS is the correct second chapter- thank you for pointing that out to me lomki22

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**Not A Damsel**

_Chapter Two_

An un-lit cigarette was clenched between Alfred's teeth as he looked down at the list of requests for a set design changes. Holding the folder in his hands, he flipped one of the pages over to check the signature before sighing and rolling his eyes slightly. He pulled the smoke from his mouth and put it into his pocket before giving a quick look around the set. Finally he caught sight of a familiar face, cupped his hands and hollered, "Toris!"

A green eyed man looked up from the frame he was working on, and placed the hammer down. Alfred quickly jogged over to him, waving the folder slightly in agitation. "Mr. Jones?" the smaller man questioned.

"You seen Ivan? The idiot decided to change the paint color of the buildings." He snorted, tucking one hand into his pocket. "Red, can you believe it? Everyone knows brown shows up better in black and white."

Toris shook his head, wiping his hands with a rag. "Sorry, I haven't seen him all day. I could go look if you want."

Alfred gave a smile, waving his hand. "It's alright. No need to worry. If you see him around though, give me a yell." He grabbed his cigarette from his pocket, bending down lightly as he lit it with his lucky eagle engraved lighter and inhaled deeply. Exhaling the smoke, he nodded to the Lithuanian man and continued on with his daily chores. Grabbing folders from several secretaries running around or handing out orders on the constructed set kept him busy for a few hours. He was talking to the head light designer about using a red light and how it would show on the film when he caught sight of a new face.

"Who's that?" Alfred questioned, jerking his head towards a white haired man painting a door. From this distance it looked like his eyes were red. Alfred blew a long stream of wispy grey smoke and flicked the ember to the ground, smudging it out with his heel.

Pushing up his glasses to the bridge of his nose, the Estonian light designer shrugged. "I'm not really sure Mr. Jones. New people come in every day to help with the set. You can't possibly remember everyone."

Alfred frowned, his nose wrinkling in a childish manner as he thought. He then relaxed, accepting the reason with a light laugh. Alfred glanced over to the man again and then went back to his former conversation. Alfred Jones never forgot a name or a face. He had to be new.

It wasn't until after lunch though that the blond American found the source of his agitation that day. He tossed the folder he had carried for hours, by now covered in winkles from his hands, paint from the set, and even a few ketchup stains from his lunch. "Braginski!" Alfred muttered, planting his hands down on the assistant director's desk.

Ivan Braginski looked up, his violet eyes cool as he gazed at the head set designer. "Jones. What an unpleasant surprise."

Alfred frowned and jabbed at the paper he had been bothered by all day. "You not only change the paint color of my buildings, but you move a whole wall to the other side? Where's the Director?" Alfred pulled back and crossed his arms. "Only Matthew can change something that big."

The assistant director just smiled. "I was thinking people wanted to see a little more red, da? And I have not seen Matthew Williams for a few days so it is my decision to make…and I do not like that wall there."

"Well we have to have that wall there. The studio said so. It acts as a noise buffer to the place next door." Alfred pulled out another cigarette, but did nothing but keep it between his lips. "You may push Matthew around, but I'd like to see you calling ones on the big shots. 'Sides, moving that wall would make us at least two days behind in production!"

Ivan folded his hands and leaned back in his chair, looking away from Alfred in a sign of dismissal. "Then I suppose you should get working on it. And don't worry about what anyone else will say. I want that wall moved."

Alfred stared at the burly man for all of two seconds before mouthing a cuss and storming out of the room. He gummed his cigarette furiously in agitation and headed back to the main stage to announce that they would have to be moving a huge freaking wall because someone was being a prickly ass about it.

Alfred rubbed at his brow as he walked. He hated Thursdays.

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Arthur was clacking away on his typewriter, hitting the return carriage lever with a ring. He frowned as he saw two persons drape themselves over the edge of his desk. Green eyes darted up, assessing the two men before he returned to typing with a deeper set frown. "And what exactly do you two want?"

Antonio Fernandez, a reporter who mainly covered the social beat, pressed his cheek into his palm while looking bored. "Well you have yet to tell us who you agree with." Francis nodded, blond hair slipping over his cheek as he looked down to where Arthur was sitting, and drummed his fingers slowly against the wood.

Arthur looked away from his typewriter just long enough to swat the Frenchman's hands away. "I don't have to agree with either of you two idiots."

"Well, Arthur, you actually do since there are only two options." He ticked off one lithe finger, standing up straight. "One. You agree with Antonio that all of these crimes— petty or not this month— are connected. Two." At this Francis brushed his hair back. "You agree with me that they are not. See? Only two options."

"Or three. You are both idiots and should sod off." Arthur finished the typed sentence and leaned back in his chair.

"So mean," Francis muttered and folded his arms against his chest. His ocean blue eyes swept over the desktop and glanced up at the Englishman."So what do you think?"

Arthur rolled the paper down to start a new paragraph. He stopped, taking a red pen from his drawer and uncapped it. Humming a bar of some insipid tune Alfred had been singing early last night, something about rainbows and birds or such, the Englishman frowned in thought. "I think that the most of it is related. Have you looked at the items? Quite the recipe for a bomb. That and Elizaveta has popped up again."

The phone rang at the desk next to them suddenly and all three jumped. Antonio was the first to recover. "Oh. I always liked her…even if bad things happen every time she comes around."

"You only say that because she left you stripped naked in a hotel room and paid off the staff so they didn't find you for three days," Arthur muttered and began to scratch down some notes on a piece of scrap paper. "I like her- she always has tips for leads."

"_Oui_. But she is usually the one behind it," Francis reminded him.

Arthur pulled out a pocket watch, glancing at the time, humming as he pushed the chair away and stood up while pulling a notepad into his pocket. "Well gentlemen. I do have a meeting." Pushing the chair in, he grabbed his hat. "I'll tell Ms. Hedervary you miss her so." The Englishman smiled when he saw Antonio shudder.

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Arthur stared at the two papers in front of him as he sat in the shadowy corner of a seedy bar. One was a yellowed torn up piece of paper that listed all the items that had disappeared this month. The other was a check. A very large check.

"And just what is this, my dear?" Arthur asked, looking up and across the table to where a beautiful Hungarian woman sat, her green eyes low and seductive while her lips twitched with a laugh.

Elizabeta tilted her head and took a sip of wine, crossing her legs. After lighting a cigarette between her red lips, she puffed out a stream of the silky grey smoke and pointed at Arthur. "I want to give you a chance. I do like you Arthur; you're the only man I've met who can out drink me. "

"A chance for what? Arthur asked curiously, malachite eyes narrowing dangerously.

She pointed with the cigarette perched between her fingers. "That note is all the tings I've been help acquiring."

"You have?" Arthur couldn't help the incredulity in his voice. "And why would you be stealing all of this?" He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table.

"Oh, dear. If I told you, I'd have to kill you." She pouted and began to trace the edge of her wine glass. "And where would the fun be in that? Besides, it's not my own job."

"So then what is the check?"

"Back off this story and put your nose elsewhere." Elizabeta re-crossed her legs. "And you will be rewarded."

Arthur fell silent, listening to the ice in his glass of bourbon melt and clink together. Elizabeta was still tracing the wine glass, making the glass sing loudly. She stopped and then tapped the table, looking interested when Arthur leaned back in his chair. "And what happens if I don't?"

She grinned and leaned forward. "Then something you wont like will happen. Take the money, everything keeps going on like it was before. Don't, and I'll open Pandora's box." She clasped Arthur hand for a moment, gaze serious. "Be smart. Take the money."

Arthur frowned and stood up, hands in his jacket pocket. "I can't. Besides, the way you work it's probably stolen money. Keep it."

Elizabeta, did not move, only sipped the last of her wine while looking out of the window. "Why are men always so idiotic?" She turned her gaze back onto Arthur. Standing up and grinding the cigarette into the ashtray, she started walking out of the small seedy bar. "Then you best keep the other paper. Might help."

Arthur took the small yellow paper, flipped it over and saw it was an address. He looked up, about to demand just what this was, but found that Elizabeta had disappeared, blending into the crowd outside.

* * *

Alfred was sitting at his impromptu desk, feet up on the edge of the wood as he looked over the set design he was going to be working on tomorrow. The western he was excited for. Looking at a few pictures of a saloon he was supposed to replicate somewhat, he blue eyed man heard a knock at the door. He look up startled, blue eyes wide and then glanced at his watch. Shit. He was going to be late for dinner if he didn't start getting on his way.

He glanced over the rim of his glasses at the man at his door. It was the white haired man he had seen earlier. Alfred began gathering his papers together. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah, Actually you can. There's a problem with part of the set being taken down. I was told you would be the one to call." The red eyed man looked agitated, as though he wanted to be doing something else.

"Can it wait until tomorrow?" Alfred muttered, snapping a case closed and putting it into a drawer.

"I think it would be best if you came now."

With a sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck, Alfred nodded. "Alright. Let's make this quick and stop the meltdown." He flicked off the lights as he left the room, following the unknown worker. As he shut the office door, jacket in one arm and fedora on his head, Alfred looked towards the worker. "So what's your name?"

"The awesome Gilbert."

Alfred raised his brow, smiling a bit. "Self imposed title?" Drat. If he didn't get home quickly Arthur would start cooking. Maybe If Arthur had had a bad day he could lure him into going out to eat. As he followed Gilbert, he began to check his pockets to make sure he had the sketch he had been working on earlier. When Gilbert continued to lead him towards the stage, Alfred cocked his head to the side. "So what exactly is the problem?" The stage was darker thanks to almost everyone heading home about now.

"Oh, it's over here…looks like an odd crack."

"Oh really? That's strange. Toris' work is always ace."

Gilbert shrugged and pointed over at the far corner. "See?"

"No. Might be my eyesight though. You said it was a crack, right? How bad?"

"Well, not as bad as the crack I'm going to put in your head."

"What?" Alfred turned around to see a red pipe wrench come swinging towards his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright! Not much to say here. Hope you enjoy and thanks for the reviews :)

_Chris

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**Not A Damsel**

_Chapter Three_

When Arthur arrived at home it was quiet. Normally Alfred was the first to get home and by then the house would be coming back to life, the radio crooning out tunes, the banging of pots and pans as dinner was slowly made, and the chattering of the young American as he would talk and coach himself through cooking. It wasn't too unusual that Alfred would be the later one home seeing as some days Arthur would arrive home early or Alfred would have a last minute meeting that would drag on over their normal hours. Arthur glanced at the clock on the wall and placed his hat on the table by the door, taking his suit jacket off and hanging it up.

Grass green eyes glanced over towards the window, noting the swirls of deep, rich blues and vivid pinks and oranges filling the sky as a red sun set. The fronds of the palm tree across the street fluttered in a gentle wind. Unused to the lack of noise in the apartment, Arthur turned on the gramophone lying in the corner next to a mountain of yellowed paper. Not wanting to bother looking for a new record, Arthur left the old machine play whatever had been on already and moved back to the kitchen to start making dinner.

When the first half hour mark passed from when Alfred would usually be home, Arthur assumed that it was due to traffic. When the half hour turned to an hour, the Briton frowned and became slightly irritated that Alfred would be home late. As another half hour passed by, Arthur became tempted to call Alfred's office. However, it would be expensive since Alfred worked in the town over and it would be long distance. Two hours made its mark as the clock announced 8 and Arthur became worried.

Elizaveta's words buzzed in the back of his mind, nestling there and entwining with the worry gnawing at his stomach. Arthur was getting more worried by the minute and left the cold dinner on the table before walking into their bedroom to retrieve Alfred's contact book. Flicking through the pages deftly, Green eyes settled on a familiar name of Alfred's company and checked the number before dialing on the rotary phone in the living room. The contact book was old, falling apart at the spine and stuffed to the brim with both new and old paper. It had been Alfred's Grandfather's, the same as the gramophone, and Arthur pressed it open in silence as he waited for the operator to connect the call.

However, the call was never answered and Arthur hung up, starting at the receiver. He got to his feet lithely, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper he had been given earlier that day.

"_Then something you wont like will happen. Take the money, everything keeps going on like it was before. Don't, and I'll open Pandora's box. _"

Arthur turned towards the door, now worried deeply for the wellbeing of his partner. He glanced down at the paper again, eyes narrowing sharply as he reread the address Elizabeta had handed him only hours ago.

He was an idiot! Arthur cursed loudly, grabbing his jacket and hat while slipping his shoes back on in haste. How could he have missed that! He jammed the hat on his head and swooped over to the side table, yanking the drawer open to retrieve his gun. Arthur ran out of the flat as quickly as he could, running to grab a taxi.

That address was where Alfred worked.

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When Alfred awoke, there were a few things he listed as wrong. The first was that his head was killing him. The second was that the world was spinning and very fuzzy. Finally, either there was a sledgehammer in use somewhere near him or his headache was really that bad.

Blue eyes opened slowly, trying to gather his bearings slowly as he looked at the turning world. He shut his eyes quickly though, the light above making his head throb. So he had a concussion, Alfred thought to himself and stifled the urge to sigh. Arthur had come back enough times with a concussion from scuffles due to his slightly unconventional style of gathering information for Alfred to know that this one was probably not that great. Alfred however opened his eyes again and blinked against the light, confused at the fact that he was staring down at the floor below him by at least thirty feet.

It was at this time that all of the blurry images started to make sense and Alfred realized that the world was not spinning, but he was. Hands bound to his sides, he was suspended in the air by the plethora of rope binding his body. Even his feet had been tied together. He tilted his head backwards, looking at the ceiling while trying to slip his glasses back onto his nose after noticing how close they were to falling off and dropping to the ground below him. Once accomplishing the small feat, Alfred looked back to the ground to see why the hell he was dangling in the air.

Two people were scurrying below, one attacking a wall with a sledgehammer while the other- a woman- watched. He gazed at them in interest, until he recognized the man with the sledgehammer.

"Hey! You're the bastard that hit me with the wrench!"

Gilbert looked up and waved to Alfred from the floor. The blond American frowned, waiting until the rope turned him back towards the people by the wall and glared. The white haired man grinned in reply, before going back to whacking the wall.

The woman who had been standing below folded her arms, looking up with a small smile. "Hello! I hope you're comfortable up there!" Her smile brightened when Alfred frowned again and continued, "I'm afraid you'll be here for a while."

Well that didn't sound good. But despite the angry curses he wanted to spew, Alfred was in the presence of a lady, albeit an evil one from what he could tell, but he had been brought up better then that. "So….why have I been hit in the head with a pipe wrench, tied up from head to toe in rope, and suspended in the air?"

"Don't forget 'over a vat of acid'." The woman called from bellow.

"Oh." Alfred looked down and registered why his nose was burning- it had to be the fumes from the acid. Indeed down below was a pool of bubbling green liquid. He tried to curl up and away from the liquid as it bubbled and splattered, but all he did was twist the rope so he began to spin and swing again. "Vat of acid?" he spluttered, blue eyes going wide. This did not happen in real life. This happened to Lois Lane and Superman. It happened in the movies that he helped in making. Heck, it happened to Robin and Batman! "Who the hell ties people up over vats of acid?" Alfred yelled in frustration.

"The atomically awesome duo." Gilbert called up and resumed his work.

Shutting his blue eyes for a moment, Alfred sighed slowly— the same way he did when dealing with one of the high-strung actresses. "You have to be kidding me," He muttered as the rope spun him slowly towards the doors and then back to the wall. "So why all this?" Alfred called down in question.

The woman tilted her head and patted the flower tucked in her hair. "Because I asked your friend to stop putting his nose where it didn't belong, and he refused." She shrugged as if to say Alfred being tied up over a vat of acid had nothing to do with her. "Nothing much I can do."

"You could let me down," Alfred tried.

The woman gave a razor sharp smile, puling a cigarette from her dress pocket. "And where would the fun be in that?" She pointed the white cylinder at Alfred and then to the rope above. "You see that rope below? Over the acid? It's connected to the rope holding you up." She paused, lighting the cigarette and inhaled, waiting for a moment before letting out a mouthful of the silvery grey smoke. " I don't think it'll stay that taunt. The acid might eat part of it and then _zzip_! The end." She turned back to watching Gilbert make a hole in the wall, "Don't take it personally, though! I hate to see pretty guys have their flesh burned and peeled off. Such a waste of beauty." The woman gave a sigh and sat on a pile of wood for construction, "I'm just following the last of my orders."

"I thought we were moving towards minimalism," the young American muttered. Well, maybe if he fell in a vat of acid he might get superpowers. That would be okay… Alfred furrowed his brows together, thinking quickly through all possible ways of getting out of this. Surely Arthur would find him? He assumed he was late for dinner, he had already been close on time before all this, and Arthur always made sure Alfred knew just what he thought of him being late. The thought of the smaller, green-eyed man made Alfred's stomach knot in fear. "You haven't hurt Arthur, have you?"

The woman didn't even look up towards Alfred as she waved the notion away. "Of course not. I just don't need him in my business."

Alfred wriggled, trying to get his hands free. "So you kidnap me?"

"For future reference. Besides, it's a job, I'm sure you understand."

"Sure. I mean, no. No! What the hell, man! What are you even doing?"

Gilbert stopped hitting the wall, placing his arm through a hole and turned to Alfred. "Robbing a bank. Awesome, right?"

"No, not really. Kind of dull, actually."

Gilbert shrugged and turned to the woman, "Liz, you can pack the stuff in there and then we can set it all up."

Liz, as Gilbert called her, came over and punched him hard in the arm before walking over to a bag near the wall. "Don't go and tell all of our plans."

"Oh, what's he going to do? Yell at us while we rob the bank as he dangles overhead?

The woman's face looked sour and she began pulling out a pack from the bag. Alfred continued to watch in interest until he felt himself jolt down slightly. He yelled, not expecting the sudden drop and looked at the rope blow him. It was starting to fray. He felt sick and Alfred twisted as best as he could to where Liz and Gilbert were working.

"Uh, you know if you let me go I could try talking to Art about this, I mean no need to have me drop into an acid bath. You know….not cool. I kind of like breathing and stuff." They ignored his rambling and Alfred looked around the familiar bay somewhat frantically. All he could do was hope that Arthur was pissed enough that he was late and hopefully come looking for him…that or one of the janitors come in for cleaning.

On the bright side, if he got out of this, he'd have one hell of a story for the scriptwriters.

And so with nothing else to do, Alfred did what he did best. He talked. "So… Boiling acid. What, alligators too expensive or something?"


	4. Chapter 4

Hey Everyone! Final chapter here and I hope you enjoy it. :) Thanks for the reviews!

_Chris

* * *

**Not A Damsel**

_Chapter Four_

The rope was close to breaking. It had been nearly twenty minutes and Alfred was trying to stay as still as he could as to not further fray the rope. The banter between Gilbert and himself had escalated to the point where the white haired man had threatened to sever the rope early. Alfred had sulked for a few minutes after that and then decided that if he was going to die (which was really un-heroic too) he would extract his revenge. He cleared his throat as he began to sing the chorus to _Clementine_ for what must have been the fifteenth time.

"Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine!" he sang out loudly, smirking at seeing both Gilbert and Elizaveta twitch from the annoying song being repeated yet again. "You are lost and gone forever, dreadful sorry Clementine!" Gilbert stuck a finger in his ear as Alfred's tone-deaf singing echoed through the lot.

"Can't we just kill him now?" Gilbert called to Elizaveta, pointing a gun at Alfred who continued to sing even louder, nearly shouting, in response.

"Leave him alone, he's only got a few minutes left," She responded, looking at her nails.

Alfred paused in his horrific singing to frown down at the two people before looking around the bay in hopes that someone would be there to help him. f_Arthur_, he thought in despair, _where are you?_ Movement below caught his eyes and Alfred looked down seeing Gilbert adding wires or something to what looked like the bomb. Summer blue eyes flickered back to the vat of acid below him and wrinkled his nose. The acidic fumes probably would leave him unable to smell for a week at this point. At least, Alfred thought in panic, that was only if he survived this whole ordeal. With that glum thought whirling though his mind, Alfred went back to extracting his revenge on the duo below. He might not be able to hit them, but he could at least annoy the shit out of them.

"Drove her ducklings to the water, every morning just at nine. Hit her foot against a splinter, fell in to the foaming brine," he sang as horribly and as loudly as he could.

"That's it!" Gilbert snapped, turning around and ignoring the wires he had been connecting, pulling out his gun.

"Gilbert!" Liz yelled.

Alfred noticed the rope below was fraying more, nearly severed by the caustic liquid below. So it was a choice of a death between the gun or burning in acid. Fun. "Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine," Alfred continued singing, but it was quieter as he watched Gilbert nervously.

"Sorry Liz, but the canary is driving me crazy." He winked a red eye at Alfred and aimed the pistol up at him. "Sorry, you're going end up dead anyhow." He clicked the safety off. "No need to take my sanity with you."

Alfred's body tensed as he realized that there was no hope of rescue. "Sorry Arthur," he muttered to himself, blinking at the shadowed room. A small and hopeless smile tugged at his lips. "Guess I'm not making it to dinner." He shut his eyes as two shots ripped through the air.

"You point that gun at him again and I wont miss."

Alfred's eyes shot open and he glanced down quickly to see Arthur standing at the entrance to the studio bay, still half concealed by thick black shadows. Heart jumping, Alfred called out, "Arthur!" He sighed, relieved for only a moment before remembering that he was still hanging over a vat of acid.

"Oh, Arthur. You came," Liz said, gliding her fingers through her hair once. She stood up and waved, a smoldering smile on her lips.

"Elizaveta, you get him down from there right now," Arthur growled, taking a few steps forward with his gun still raised. Green eyes flickered up and Alfred wiggled his fingers as an attempt for a reassuring wave.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Arthur. I've got a wall to blow up and a bank to rob; terribly busy I'm afraid. And I have no time to grab a ladder for you seeing how that rope is about to snap at any second." She pouted and waved her hand circularly. "Such a shame you didn't come earlier."

"Snap?" Arthur echoed and he turned to the vat of acid. A gunshot went off and Arthur dove to the side.

"Don't even think about moving or I'll shoot you," twisting the gun back and forth, Gilbert gave a sharp and bitter smile. "I don't like people shooting at me."

"And I don't like people kidnapping people I enjoy company with."

Another shot rang out, Gilbert gasping and gripping his arm tightly. Elizaveta came running to Gilbert's side, her soft features pitched together sharply. Arthur took off, running closer to where Alfred was hanging.

" Are you okay! How do I get you down?" Arthur called up, his head whipping back and forth as he looked for a way to get Alfred down.

"I'm fine! And…uh…I dunno, but you might want to hurry babe, not trying to freak you out or anything." Because the rope was starting to unravel more, he could see through the coiled mass as only the center remained. "Like right now…"

"Hold on!" Arthur called and disappeared from Alfred's view. The American tried to follow after him but he didn't want to even slightly pull or twist the rope. Instead, he watched Gilbert shoo away Elizaveta who went back to messing with the bomb. Gilbert was clutching at his arm tightly, and glaring in the direction Arthur had disappeared to.

Metallic tapping reached Alfred's ears and he glanced just slightly over his shoulder, seeing Arthur carefully and quickly scale the metal steps that lead to the catwalk and beams above. "Careful!" Alfred shouted, seeing Arthur loose his footing once.

Arthur stepped onto the walkway leading to where Alfred was tied up and gave him an annoyed glance. "Careful says the one kidnapped," he muttered. His fingers were tightly clenched around the metal banister that kept anyone from falling over. He surged forward and knelt above Alfred, the vibrations of the metal walkway making Alfred gasp as the rope swung.

Alfred looked up and gave a strained smile to the Englishman, watching as Arthur tightly grabbed the rope. "How nice of you to drop by, babe."

"You missed dinner," Arthur replied tersely and began to pull Alfred up with a small grunt. The rope finally snapped from the acid below and both men pitched down as all the weight was transferred to Arthur. For a few harrowing seconds, Alfred was sure that both of them would be sent down into the acid. He could feel the rope tighten and constrict around his body as Arthur held on tight and then, with a grunt, he pulled him up onto the walkway.

For a minute they both acted like fish flopping out of water. Alfred fell to the side, unable to wiggle up into a sitting position. Arthur simply lay down, staring at the darkened ceiling before chuckling. Alfred looked up, blue eyes wide and tilted his head up to keep his glasses from falling off. Rolling over onto his lover's arm, he placed his forehead to Arthur's shoulder.

"Thanks," he said and let out a long sigh. He heard the Englishman he was laying on snort and he looked up. "Now that we're mostly out of peril, could you untie me babe?"

"No." Arthur sat up, dusting off his shirt and pulling his arm from underneath Alfred.

"What?"

"Kidding, kidding," Arthur placated, seeing Alfred's look of horror. He helped the taller man sit up by pulling on the binds. He sat behind Alfred, trying to undo one of the multiple knots.

Alfred flexed his fingers, one of the few things that had mobility. Arthur's fingers were jerking at the rope, pulling Alfred to a fro with little jolts and he looked back with a frown. "Hey, hey. Trauma induced victim here! Be nice!"

Arthur didn't bother to look up from the knot he was puling on. "Yes. Fine. Shut up."

Summer blue eyes turned away, peering down to the ground below through skewed glasses and watched Liz and Gilbert move around. Liz was sitting on a crate, looking bored as she stared at a gold pocket watch lying in her hands. She idly swung the short chain with her thumb. Gilbert was looking up at Arthur and Alfred, a prominent frown on his face, but soon he switched to looking at a small box and switch connected to wires lying only a small distance away. He had taken his hand away from his arm, the shot seemingly only nicking him.

"Hey, Artie…" Alfred murmured quietly, keeping a wary eye on the two below. "We might want to get out of here."

"I would agree with you if you didn't have the mobility of a worm right now." He jerked on the rope pulling Alfred closer with a yelp.

"Yeah. That'd be ace if you could hurry up." Alfred glanced back, finally meeting green eyes and nodded to the wall. "Cause they're gonna blow this place to Timbuktu and I really don't want to drop into acid again."

"You never dropped into acid."

"Well I almost did. That counts."

"No it does not." One knot came loose and Alfred felt the pressure on his ribcage lessen. He regained his mobility of his shoulders and rolled them gently. Arthur moved onto another knot and pushed and pulled at the rope.

"We can go out to eat after this, how about Darlene's?" Alfred asked airily.

Arthur paused in his unknotting and furrowed his brows. The acidic steam from below made his eyes water and nose burn. "What?"

"You know, since I missed dinner."

"I made dinner, it's at home." Well, if the blackened chicken and spinach could be called dinner. In Arthur's worry he had destroyed the food.

"Did you turn off the stove?" Alfred watched as Liz shut the watch and stood up, brushing dust off her clothes.

Arthur rolled his eyes and paused his feverish untying to whack the other man's head. "Of course I did."

Alfred began to twist his ankles back and forth to shimmy out of the bindings wrapping around his legs. Nervously, his eyes darted down to the ground to watch Liz and Gilbert walking farther away from the wall, gingerly carrying the box with them and leaving a thick cord of wire behind. "Arthur," Alfred began.

The cord slackened around his torso and Alfred found the mobility of his arms once again. "Yes, yes." Arthur muttered, scooting down towards his legs to loosen the knots quickly. Alfred joined in, ignoring the small stinging pain of his numb arms being moved once again as he began to help rip the knots apart.

With both of their fingers flying over the knots, the bindings came off in no time. Alfred jumped up, watching the rope sloughed off and hummed in happiness. Almost immediately, he tilted to the side and would have fallen over if it hadn't been for Arthur's hands quickly grabbing him. "Woah," he muttered feeling the ache of his numb legs and arms.

"Careful, you moron." Arthur breathed, keeping one hand tightly around Alfred's forearm.

Alfred nodded and quickly embraced the other man tightly. Arthur returned the hug, just as tightly.

"Thirty seconds!" Liz called from below.

"Fuck." Alfred responded and pulled Arthur's hand as he started to dart down the metal walkway. It swung gently with their feet beating against it. If they could just get to the other side and to the ladder they would be okay. If not, the walkway–which was supported by the wall– would collapse to the ground thirty feet below. He skidded to a stop, causing Arthur to collide into him.

"Twenty seconds!" Liz called.

"What–" Arthur started.

Alfred stared at the coil of wires. "How good is your shot?" he asked Arthur. Though they could have made it to the ladder, they wouldn't make it out of the way if the walkway collapsed. Trapped like a rat, Alfred growled to himself.

A simple look from Arthur was all the answer Alfred needed.

"Shoot that coil of wires. Otherwise this walkway is going down with us on it."

"You want me to what?"

"No time to argue, just do it." He shoved Arthur towards the railing for a clear shot.

"It'll set the bomb off!" Arthur snapped, but was already pulling out his gun from his jacket. He grit his teeth and Alfred could guess when this was all over Arthur might kill him personally. Bringing his arms up, he aimed and pulled the trigger. He missed.

"Try again," Alfred urged as Liz began counting down, he dark green eyes trained on the pocket watch in her hand.

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he shot again.

It was a perfect hole through the wires.

Alfred had braced himself for an explosion, but nothing happened, even when Gilbert pressed down on the switch for the explosion. He growled angrily and pulled out a gun, aiming upwards. "Hey!" Alfred called and dragged Arthur down to the floor of the walkway with him with a heavy thump. The vibration of their impact made his teeth chatter, but nothing happened.

"Woah. You know, today's my lucky day," Alfred muttered. No explosion, no getting shot at (yet).

"Your lucky days suck." Arthur snapped.

Alfred gave a cheeky grin in reply.

"I'm going to kill you!" Gilbert called out from below.

Alfred frowned, looking to Arthur in concern. "Any ideas?" The Englishman asked, holding the gun tightly between his hands.

Alfred looked over to him and tilted his head, adjusting his glasses as he did so. "Well," he started off slowly, "I do, but you're not going to like it."

"And why is that?" Arthur edged closer to the end of the walkway to peer below.

"Cause you'll say I'm a comic-book reading idiot."

"No I wont."

Alfred looked about the large room and then at behind them. "We go out Batman style. Swing down the rope, kick the bad guys over, call the cops, and be heroes."

"You're a comic-book reading idiot."

"Hey!"

Arthur shuffled back towards the middle of the walkway and glared down at the floor. "But I don't see any other way of getting down. If we get on the ladder we'll be easy targets."

"Great." Alfred said and jumped up, reaching over and grabbing one of the many ropes hanging from the rafters. "Geronimo!"

"Git!" Arthur called after him, gripping the railing tightly. Alfred ignored him, focused on not killing himself or getting shot at. The rope stung at his hands as he slid down it and jumped the last bit down, knocking himself over, as he was unable to stick the landing. He got up quickly and jumped lightly when a shot rang through the air, eyes flickering around to see where the danger was.

Gilbert was glaring up at Arthur, who in return was glowering back as he kept his gun trained on him. Alfred took a step forward and Gilbert twisted, aiming his gun back at Alfred. The American didn't put his hands up, but he did pause in his movement.

"Gig's up, Elizaveta!" Arthur called from above. "No one's going to win this, just let us go."

The woman still sitting on the crates flipped her hair over her shoulder, looking up with a wry smile on her painted lips. "Maybe."

"We wont call the cops." Arthur added, causing Alfred so send the other man a frown of disapproval. What hero let the bad guy's escape! Above, Arthur ignored him.

"Tempting," She sang out, and examined her fingers for a second. She turned her gaze over to her partner and shrugged. "What do you think Gilbert?"

"I think this is so not awesome."

She hummed and Alfred watched both of the criminals carefully. She finally looked up to Arthur and shrugged. "I suppose that'll do. We were already paid in advance so who cares. Bad fuses, right?" She got up and walked past Gilbert and Alfred, "Lovely meeting you dear," she said to him and left. Gilbert shrugged, stowed the gun away and sauntered after her.

Neither Alfred nor Arthur said anything for a minute. Alfred stretched his arms with groan, still ridding his muscles of the pain from being tied up and smiled up at Arthur who was gazing at the doorway. "Dinner?" he asked.

"It must be nearly nine, Alfred." He turned away from the doorway and slowly walked towards the ladder at the end. "By the time we get decent again the restaurants will have closed."

"We'll find something." He flexed his hands, examining the light red rope burn marks along his palm.

"You're acting like you hate my cooking."

Alfred laughed, walking towards the base of the ladder and watching Arthur come safely down. When he neared the bottom, Alfred grabbed him around his waist and held him tightly. "My hero," he purred, pressing his head against the other man and put him down.

Arthur turned around and kissed him. His lips were chapped. Pure relief seemed to shine in his eyes and Alfred tilted his head, adjusting his glasses. A mischievous glint soon shined and Arthur smirked. "So are you my damsel in distress?"

"Not a damsel," Alfred growled and furrowed a hand through his own golden hair. He quickly matched Arthur's smirk. "But a hero does deserve a reward." He picked up Arthur, despite the yelp of protest and gave a toothy grin. "A super awesome reward."

Arthur hummed, smiled, and then pushed himself out of Alfred's arms. "Race you back to the house then," he called and then pushed Alfred again for a head start.

"Hey!" Alfred called and ran to catch up.

* * *

It was only the next morning when Alfred was frying bacon that he glanced to his partner and asked, "Where the hell did they get all that acid?"


End file.
